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just-some-random-blogger · 1 month ago

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Just normally reading fics as one does in a normal manner very normally in a normal way with a normal look on my face and a normal grip on my phone on a normal normal day

[...] the glasses rattling with every thump of the shitty punk bands drummer.

First of all I'm a drummer fucker

Everyone was well aware of the fact that dating a non-Slytherin was off the table, as far as your family was concerned.

Ok but that's weird

Little did they know you were sporting a bite mark from a certain red-headed Gryffindor just below the waistline of your skirt.

AND THAT'S INSNAE

IT GIRL SHIT

You rolled your eyes. “Not even worth talking about, let alone dating”

HAHAHAHAH SHES A CERTIFIED HATER AND WE LOVE TO SEE IT. 👏IT👏GIRL👏SHIT💅

“But they are pretty,” Talia argued. “And that's all they really need to be, anyways.”

And silent. Don't forget silent

“They are unreasonably tall,” Sophia added. “And that will always make a guy hotter.”

🗣️ME🗣️AND🗣️MY🗣️UNNECESSARILY🗣️TALL🗣️MAN🗣️AGENDA🗣️

As if Devi manifested them, Fred and George sauntered into the Three Broomsticks, with Lee, Ron, Harry and Seamus on their heels.

OH TO MANIFEST GEORGE WEASLEY INTO EXISTENCE 🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️PSPSPSPPSPSLSSL HERE PRETTY BOY ✨✨✨✨✨ COME HERE I HAVE CAKE 🎂

[...] his hair tousled in that devil-may-care, thoroughly kissed way he looked after you got your fangs into him.

STUNNING VIVID AMAZING INCREDIBLE I SEE IT IT MAKES MY INSIDES WARM WHAT THE FUCK

But then, Angelina Johnson swept in, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him over to the couches where her and her friends were.

😀oh💔hi😀angelina💔how😀are💔you😀tonight💔aha😀ahaha💔oh😀what💔me😀 jealous💔aha😀of💔who😀jealous💔of🫵you🫵aha😀why💔would😀i💔aha😀

You wanted desperately to ditch your friends and curl up in a booth with him, maybe rent one of the private lounges for a bit…

SPEND DADDYS MONEY WHATS THE POINT OF BEING RICH IF YOU CANT SPEND IT ON THINGS YOU WANTTT AND YOU AND ME GIRL WE WANT HIM LIKE AWOOOGA

“We'll be over there, y/n,” Talia said, pointing at a table across the room while ushering Devi out of the booth, Sophia following them.

😦😦😦😦😦 they really out here saying they're her friends and they just fucking LEFT woowwwwwwwwwwwwwWWWWWW WWOWWWWWW

He slid into the booth and you scooched away, refusing to look him in the eye, lest you cave to his guilty expression. “I'm not bullshitting you. I would never go to father behind your back, I swear.”

): my boy I wanna believe him )))):

“Enough!” George snapped, directly behind you, his brawny arm solid and comforting around your waist. He released you the next second, though, taking a half-step away. Fred was there the next second, prying Ron out of the Theo's grip while Harry got between Draco and Lee.

Backshots? Rn? Skirt up belly down... Fred can join

Ron lunged towards the two of you, fist cocked back to hit Draco, but George jumped in the middle, catching Ron's fist and shoving him back a step.

CYANIDE UNCAPPED FROM MY TOP MOLAR?

George snatched Theo up by the collar, dragging him up onto his tiptoes and shaking him. “Not another word, Nott,” he warned.

he's so barbie

HE HAS NOT BUSINESS BEING SO FUCKING HOT MY PANTIES WILL NOT SURVIVE THIS REBLOG IM SOAKED

You placed a hand on George's chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath his ribs, and nudged him back.

Same George. But between her (my) legs. I need heroin

They all scoffed, grumbling about how you weren't the boss of them while still gathering their things. You risked a glance at George, and the proud gleam in his eye made your knees weaken.

Arsenic in my guts because I cant have george

“Go on, then. The princess has spoken,” Fred teased, waving them away, grinning when Draco flashed him a vicious glare.

FRED MY BELOVED CHAOS PROPONENT LEMME SMOOCH YOU

“Saw something you liked?” Fred asked, and you could practically hear the waggle in his eyebrows.

THE TWINEPATHY IS TWINEPATHYING I LOVEEE THEMMMMM GRRRRRRRRRRR CHEEKY CHEEKY

“Just a water and a room, please,” you asked, sliding some coins across the table.

🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑FATHER DONT NEED TO HEAR BOUT DIS

George’s fist tightened against your scalp, the prickle of pain making you gasp as he leaned in closer. “I'll call Lee back here then, see if he can wrangle you half as well as I do,” he purred, his hand on your waist sliding down between your legs, rucking up the little dress you wore. His fingers grazed the swell of your aching cunt, discovering the honey soaking through your underwear, and loosed a low chuckle. “Someone else get you this wet, love?” he cooed, kissing along your jaw while you melted like putty.

PROTECTIVE JEALOUS HAIR PULLING MANHANDLING TEASING GINGER WOW OK 👍 RAIL ME

George's eyes darkened. “Something that would send me to Azkaban for life, probably,” he said, voice pitching lower, the roughness of it making you shiver. “I'm not usually quick to anger, but with you…” He sighed, resting his forehead against yours.

OK AHAH I HAVE TO SAY TUMBLR RELOADED AND I WAS NEARLY DONE REBLOGGING BUT I WENT BACK AND GOT ALL (?) THE TEXT I LOST FROM THE RELOAD FUCK YOU TUMBLR FR. also I don't remember what I had to say to this anymore 😭 SMTH smth rail me ig

He tossed you up onto the counter, belt clinking against the ceramic as he undid it. “M’sorry, baby. Can't wait,” he muttered into your hair, spreading your knees apart with his hips.

BITING MY FIST THE VISUALLLLL NAY THE AURAL EXPERIENCE IS 🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪😝😝😝😛😛😛💦💦💦💦💦💦

“S’fucking tight, rattlesnake. Seven hells,” he growled, spreading your thighs wider, pressing deeper.

I identify as a rattlesnake

Pleasure mounted, evident by the puddle collecting beneath you, slick soaking into his jeans.

NO CUZ IM TRYNA STAIN HIS JEANS DAFAQ GEORGE STAIN MY GENES CHALLENGE

Lips found yours again, parting, taking, the sloppiness of it dragging you closer and closer to oblivion. Quick fingers and deep, deliberate thrusts hitting every mark, every nerve. It was inevitable, hunting you, chasing you down like prey.

BRUHHHH SO VIVID SO VISCERAL SO WELL WRITTEN CAN TASTE IN MY MOUTH ITS SO GOOD ALLIE I CANT SAY ANYTHING THAN SAY THAT ITS SO GOOD THE PREY ANALOGY IS INSANE

You shattered, a dying star, eclipsed entirely by bliss.

OKAY SHAKESPEARE I SEE YOU WHATTTTT

This thing with you was fleeting—a strike of lightning. A shooting star. And soon, it would have to end. He couldn't bring you home, couldn't get a flat with you—

): runaway. ALSO JUST SO GOOD BEAUTIFUL WELL WRITTEN AMAZING DESCRIPTIONS

Tears burned behind his eyes, but he pushed through them in favor of kissing you again, crowding you back against the shower wall. Focused on the heat of your skin, the slide of your limbs around his, your tongue on his throat, and let worries of tomorrow wash away.

GEORGE CRYINF??? BRB

(this is why Tumblr reloaded I made this stupid ass meme. worth it)

“Two households, both alike in dignity,

NAHHH NOT ROMEO AND JULIET. NOT GEORGE ORATING IT. NOT SHAKESPEARE QUOTING HERSELF. INSANE WORK

The way Umbridge was looking at him, all arrogance and snobbery. Like she knew something he didn't…

Have absolutely no idea where this fic is headed cos I remember nothing of the films BUT THE UMBRIDGE PTSD NEVER DIES. I'm a bit late to reading cos my brain won't work and I hate it for it cos WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DIDNT WANT TO READ THIS ARE YOU INSANE need to read your bill fic I just CANT IM INSANE

A Madness Most Discreet p.3 | G.W.

feat George Weasley x Malfoy!reader

summary: after a brawl at the Three Broomsticks, you and George steal away for a night of romance without the specter of being caught looming over you. however, when you return to Hogwarts in the morning, you find that things have taken a turn for the worse.

cw: MDNI 18+, smut, protective!George, fighting, drinking, Draco is an asshole, blood prejudice and classism, internal angst, some fluff, Umbridge joins the chat

series navigation | part one | part two | masterlist | divider by @roseraris

Reader's POV

The Three Broomsticks was slammed, damn near packed to rafters with students. Endless trays of butterbeer and whiskey flew over your head to sate the crowds debauched appetites, the glasses rattling with every thump of the shitty punk bands drummer.

You were crammed into a corner booth, sipping on a cocktail you had to teach the bartender how to make, with three of your friends, pretending to care about their relationship drama and the latest Slytherin gossip.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Talia asked, placing a hand over yours to get your attention.

“Not at the moment,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. “I'm finding most Slytherin boys are rather…dull.”

They all nodded sympathetically.

“Well, what about non-Slytherin’s?” Devi asked, leaning in conspiratorially. Everyone was well aware of the fact that dating a non-Slytherin was off the table, as far as your family was concerned.

Little did they know you were sporting a bite mark from a certain red-headed Gryffindor just below the waistline of your skirt.

You rolled your eyes. “Not even worth talking about, let alone dating” you drawled. “Soph, how are things with that Ravenclaw?” You asked, turning the conversation away from you.

“Ugh, I ended that. They were way too chatty,” Sophie laughed, before rambling for about fifteen minutes about why she thought they were too chatty.

You finished your drink and flagged down the waitress for another. “Make it a double,” you said, sliding her an extra galleon. You'd need all the help you could get to survive this evening.

“Who do you think is the hottest Slytherin?” Devi asked.

“If one of you says my brother, I swear to Salazar—” You and Draco hadn't spoken in days, not since the Howler incident, and the last thing you wanted to do was listen to your friends drool over how hot he was.

“No, no!” Devi giggled. “What about Blaise, though?”

“Oh, or Theo!”

“Dull,” you reiterated, laughing along with them. “Theo’s about as toxic as he is tall, and Blaise is so far up his own ass, he can't see the sun.”

“But they are pretty,” Talia argued. “And that's all they really need to be, anyways.”

You chuckled. “Very true.”

“What about Gryffindor?” Sophia asked.

Devi chewed her lip, then—”Okay, okay, don't laugh, but I think the Weasley twins are gorgeous.”

You about choked on your fresh drink. “The Weasley's?” You asked, putting as much incredulity into your voice as you could.

“I know, I know. But George is like—” Devi fanned herself.

“They are unreasonably tall,” Sophia added. “And that will always make a guy hotter.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, look!” Talia squeaked, pointing at the door.

As if Devi manifested them, Fred and George sauntered into the Three Broomsticks, with Lee, Ron, Harry and Seamus on their heels. And of course, George looked damn near sinful in his light wash jeans and rugby jersey, his hair tousled in that devil-may-care, thoroughly kissed way he looked after you got your fangs into him.

Merlin, you saw him yesterday, you needed to get a grip.

His eyes snagged on yours across the room, a spark igniting that you could see even in the dim and dusty tavern. But then, Angelina Johnson swept in, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him over to the couches where her and her friends were.

You didn't have a problem with Angelina, you shared Magical Runes together, and she always struck you as plucky and clever, two traits you liked very much in a woman. But disquiet pooled in your stomach when George smiled down her, saying something you couldn't make out while he graciously greeted her friends.

It was ridiculous, though, because you and George weren't official. You couldn't be official—no, wait, you didn't want to be official. Right? You didn't want a relationship, you wanted to have fun. And you were.

Things with George had been lots of fun. And that was all it needed to be. Fun.

“Ugh, that Johnson girl is going to get him,” Devi scoffed, offended by the very insinuation, as if she’d have a chance either way.

“Angelina’s not so bad,” you said without thinking.

Your friends all stared at you.

“Rubbish Quidditch player though,” you added quickly, and they seemed to relax, sliding into gossip about the Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin this weekend.

Angelina was far from a rubbish Quidditch player, but you felt compelled to divert the situation, even if the comment sat like a rock in your stomach.

Your focus turned back to George while your friends dithered, and you noticed he was moving away from Angelina, rather than sitting down like you'd expected. He was shaking his head, mouth turned down apologetically, and your heart gave a little flip.

Was he rejecting her?

His dark eyes flicked to you again, skating over your body, the bare skin of your legs, and a now familiar warmth kicked up in the belly. Even without words or touches, George always managed to make you melt.

You knew he only had eyes for you, and it settled the passing quake in your soul.

He returned to his friends, having to shout over the crowd to order a beer. You smiled to yourself, unable to stop the bloom of affection his voice conjured.

Another hour passed, the two of you on separate sides of the stuffy tavern, periodically catching each other's eye through the haze of pipe smoke. You wanted desperately to ditch your friends and curl up in a booth with him, maybe rent one of the private lounges for a bit…

The tavern doors swung open, and your improved mood immediately soured once more.

Draco came traipsing in with Blaise, Theo, and Pansy, smug as a peacock. You sunk further down into your booth, trying to hide behind Sophia, but of course, Draco spotted you.

He made a beeline straight towards you, pushing through the crowd without care.

“We'll be over there, y/n,” Talia said, pointing at a table across the room while ushering Devi out of the booth, Sophia following them.

“No, wait—shit.” So much for friends.

“I thought you were at the castle?” Draco asked, bracing his hands on the table and the back of the booth. Caging you in.

“I am, obviously,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink. It tasted bitter, watery, but the booze still burned enough to work.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He pressed, sliding your drink away from you.

You scoffed. “Maybe because you're a controlling arse?” You yanked your drink back, liquor sloshing over the rim.

“I'm not—” he sighed. “Okay, I am. But I had nothing to do with that Howler.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don't you have bullshit to peddle elsewhere?”

Draco had always been a shit liar, especially when it came to you. Sincerity shone through his pale eyes. You hated it, but only because it meant you had been wrong.

“You know he'd blame me for your discretion, so why would I rat?” Draco added, and you knew he was right. Draco always took the fall for your missteps, no matter how you pleaded with your father.

It was Draco's job to protect you, so any failing on your part was ultimately his.

“I know,” you murmured, placing a hand over his. An unspoken apology. Malfoy's didn't apologize.

“You know why I didn't get a Howler too?” He asked.

You shook your head.

He leaned forward, ensuring he wasn't overheard. “I went home with the Vanishing Cabinet, got the flogging in person the day before.”

You gasped, releasing his hand to cover your mouth. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“I thought he'd leave it at that. Didn't want you to worry. But then he sent the Howler…” he mumbled, stealing a swallow of your drink, then screwed up his face in disgust. “That's bloody awful.”

“So, who snitched?” You asked, glancing sidelong at his friends and a few Slytherin’s clustered by the bar they were too young to drink at.

Draco shrugged. “Snape, I reckon. Maybe another student.”

Snape. That's who George accused as well.

“Why would Snape do that?”

“Because he's a miserable fuck trying to get father to trust him,” Draco replied. “Same reason anyone does anything to us.” A bitterness edged his tone, and a frown tugged at the corners of your lips.

When did he start looking so…weary?

“Are you alright?” You asked.

He nodded. “Just couldn't stand having you hate me too.”

“Oi, fucking watch it, Weasley!” Theo barked, wrenching you and Draco from your conversation. “They don't teach respect in the gutter?”

Ron was standing a few feet from Draco's friends, cheeks red with fury. “Fucking lightweight, gets knocked by sodding spring breeze—”

“More like a fucking golem, bloody stupid oaf—”

Ron swung, fist coming hard and fast, but Theo managed to duck under it, driving his shoulder into Ron's guts.

Draco was up in a flash, catching Lee before he could intervene and shoving him back. “How about you mind your fucking business, Jordan? Wouldn't want your jaw too mangled to announce my fucking victory this weekend—”

You jumped up, rushing to try and separate Theo and Ron, who were trading punches like playing cards, but someone caught you around the middle, hauling you back a split second before you got caught with a wayward swipe. So close you felt the air bending around Theo's fist caress your face.

You grabbed Draco as soon as Lee had his hands off of him, wrapping your arm around his to keep him from lunging again. “Stop it, D,” you hissed in his ear. “The last thing we need is the Aurors telling father—”

Draco was huffing, anger rolling off him in pungent waves. “Wouldn't be a fucking problem if the boors would just stay in their place,” he spit, pointing a finger in Ron’s face, his Malfoy signet ring flashing in the candlelight.

You gasped. “Draco!—”

Ron lunged towards the two of you, fist cocked back to hit Draco, but George jumped in the middle, catching Ron's fist and shoving him back a step.

“I said enough,” he growled, throwing a glare back at Draco. You'd never seen George so serious, something militant and snarling possessing your sweet Georgie.

“What's the matter Weasley? Can't stand to see your little brother get his ass handed to him?” Theo taunted.

“Ron could snap your scrawny ass like a twig,” you shot back.

“Oi, fuck you. Birds stay out of it—”

George snatched Theo up by the collar, dragging him up onto his tiptoes and shaking him. “Not another word, Nott,” he warned.

Merlin, you knew George was protective, but this…he looked prepared to rip Theo’s throat out with his teeth.

“Okay, okay, let's just calm down. We're not fucking children,” you said, moving away from Draco to get between George and Theo. You placed a hand on George's chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath his ribs, and nudged him back.

Reluctantly, he released Theo, stepping back to stand beside his twin, hackles still raised, chest rising and falling quickly.

Theo opened his mouth to say something else, but your warning glare had him cracking his jaw shut.

“It's over. Draco, take your friends home,” you said, channeling every bit of your mother's authority.

Draco scowled. “You can't—”

“Go. Potter, take Ron back,” you ordered. “You bairns are to young to drink anyways.”

They all scoffed, grumbling about how you weren't the boss of them while still gathering their things. You risked a glance at George, and the proud gleam in his eye made your knees weaken.

“Go on, then. The princess has spoken,” Fred teased, waving them away, grinning when Draco flashed him a vicious glare.

You rolled your eyes and turned your back on them, bracing your elbows on the bar to hide your trembling. The lingering adrenaline from the fight and the thrill of George's protectiveness made you feel a little lightheaded.

“C’mon, let's get out of here,” Fred said, moving towards the door. Lee and George followed, and your heart sank a bit watching George walk away without a backwards glance.

Then—“Actually, I’m gonna hang back for another drink, but I'll meet up with you later?” You overheard George say, and it took everything in you to not perk up like a dog.

“Saw something you liked?” Fred asked, and you could practically hear the waggle in his eyebrows.

“Something like that,” George chuckled.

You risked a glance up in time to see Fred and Lee walk out of the pub, leaving George by the door, waving them off.

“What'll it be, love?” The bartender asked.

“Just a water and a room, please,” you asked, sliding some coins across the table.

George leaned against the other side of the bar, watching you over the rim of his beer. An impish smirk lifted the corner of his mouth.

“Sure, hun.” They took your coins and grabbed a key from under the bar, passing it to you before fetching you water.

You accepted your water with a smile and headed to the stairs, having to stop yourself from taking them two at a time out of excitement. Butterflies rioted in your stomach, your skin tingling in anticipation.

With shaking hands, you unlocked the door, draping your Slytherin scarf over the handle so he'd know which was yours.

Five minutes later, knuckles rapped softly on the door.

“Come in,” you called, turning back to the mirror while your removed your earrings.

A moment later, George appeared in the mirror behind you, his arms looping around your waist and hauling you back into his chest.

“Must you dress so bloody gorgeous all the time?” He asked, openly ogling you in the mirror, hands smoothing over your curves.

You smirked, setting your earring on the vanity. “Never know who I might need to impress—”

George spun you around, pining your hips to the counter as he leaned over you. Your lower belly liquified at the ferine look in his eye. It seemed his blood was still running hot after the fight.

“Find anyone?” He asked, carding his fingers through your hair to tilt your head back a little further, exposing the tender sweep of your neck.

Something reckless in you wanted to test the waters, draw out this newfound, bestial side of him. “There was this one Gryffindor, handsome, charming, dark curly hair—”

“Just a coincidence,” you whispered, breathless when his middle finger passed over your vexed clit, still a bit sore from the day prior.

He hummed, withdrawing his hand and resting it on your thigh, letting you feel the wetness clinging to his fingers. “Just a coincidence, huh?”

You whined, folding immediately at the loss of contact. “You'll think I'm insane,” you admitted, hiding your face in his shoulder.

“Will I, now? Why's that?” He tugged your head back up by the roots of your hair.

“I liked…seeing you…get protective…” you mumbled, averting your eyes.

He tilted his head a bit, looking infuriatingly chuffed with the revelation. “Oh, sweet girl. That fight turn you on?”

“Not the fight, just…you.”

“I see.” He nodded sagely. “Here I thought you'd think I was out of line.”

You shook your head, working your lower lip between your teeth. “What would you have done if Theo’s rogue punch connected?”

Your heart surged, pounding frantically in your chest. The world felt silty beneath you, shifting, spreading, on the precipice of being swallowed whole. On the verge of falling.

Careless, you plunged forward, crashing your lips into his. He collapsed into you, his tongue diving between your teeth to devour you. You could taste the beer on his lips, something hoppy and dark, intoxicating, and you pulled him closer, needing more, needing to breath him like air.

“Need you,” you panted, gulps of air sawing through your burning lungs.

He tossed you up onto the counter, belt clinking against the ceramic as he undid it. “M’sorry, baby. Can't wait,” he muttered into your hair, spreading your knees apart with his hips.

Panties tugged to the side, the cold bite of the tile against your fevered skin, the steely hardness of his cock breaching your heat, fullness, fuck, so full.

“George,” you keened, nails scrabbling for purchase on the vanity as he fucked up into you, splitting you down the middle. But the clenched fist of your cunt hampered his progress.

“S’fucking tight, rattlesnake. Seven hells,” he growled, spreading your thighs wider, pressing deeper.

“I can't—shit,” you whimpered, tears collecting on your lower lashes at the brutal stretch.

“You can, pretty. I know you can,” he soothed, palming the side of your face and kissing away an errant tear. “Just need to relax f’me.” His other hand left your thigh, dipping between your bodies. Middle finger brushed your clit, tracing gentle circles around it, and you felt your muscles start to unwind, the stitches of pain dissolving into pleasure.

“Fuck, George,” you moaned, his cock sliding a bit deeper as your walls loosened.

“There you go, thaaat's a good girl. Nice n’ easy,” he hummed, withdrawing his hips before sinking forward again, finding a steady, languid rhythm as he fucked you open. “You feel so good, baby. Perfect little pussy takin’ me so well,” he praised, lips feathering over your pulse.

Pleasure mounted, evident by the puddle collecting beneath you, slick soaking into his jeans. Your body was starting to ignite, a delicious, consuming warmth spreading under your skin that had you singing his praises. Enraptured.

No one could fuck you like George could, and you told him so between broken cries.

“Yeah, baby? No one can fuck you like me—fuckin’ made for me,” he groaned, thrusts getting rougher, punishing as the coil in your belly tightened, baring down on him. “Go on, love. Show me how good I make you feel. Come for me—”

You shattered, a dying star, eclipsed entirely by bliss.

“Shit, gonna take me with you—fuck!” A snap of his hips, the slap barely audible over your mewling, and you snatched his soul, greedy cunt milking him for everything he had.

He braced his hands on the counter, trembling with effort of not crushing you while you twitched and spasmed, locked up so tight he could barely withdraw.

“Shh, love—did so good,” he murmured, kissing every bit of skin he could reach while your mind pieces itself back together, bits of soul adrift in a sea of dopamine. “M’sorry—I didn’t—did I hurt you?”

You shook your head as you came back into your body, feeling his cock slide out you with a surge of release. “Didn't hurt me,” you panted, catching his chin and drawing him into an airy kiss, too out of breath for a proper one, but feeling compelled to do it anyways.

“Good,” he exhaled with a relieved smile, pecking your lips again. “How long do we have the room for?” He straightened to grab his wand and clean you both up.

“Tomorrow morning,” you replied, folding your lips to suppress a smile.

His eyes widened, copper brows shooting up. “Sleepover?”

You nodded, chest swelling with giddy elation. “Sleepover.”

George's POV

George managed to coax you into a shower, insisting on washing your body himself with the cheap inn soap just to hear you purr in pleasure, relaxing completely into him. He didn’t know what it was about you, but he wanted to brush your hair, feed you grapes, fan you with one of those big leaves like Cleopatra.

He was down bad.

“I saw you talking with Draco earlier,” he said, massaging away the tension in your shoulders. “Are you guys okay now?” It was clear how much fighting with Draco weighed on you, and George cared more about your happiness than his own distaste for your younger sibling.

You shrugged. “He's says he didn't snitch—” a soft moan slipped past your lips when he dug into a particularly tight knot. “He actually mentioned Snape as a possibility, like you.”

George was glad you couldn't see the face he made. If Draco accused Snape, it was extremely likely that it was actually the Potions Professor.

How much attention has Snape actually been paying to you?

His hands stilled on your shoulders as anxiety slithered under his skin, coiling around his throat. Could Snape know?

You turned to face him, eyes round and tender. “You worry too much,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around his neck, dripping wet skin pressing against his. His anxiety unraveled, bones softening, and bent down towards you like the branches of a willow. Molded his lips to yours.

It wasn't hurried, stolen seconds like the majority of the kisses you shared. Rather, it was languid, loose and messy and indulgent. Lips gliding through warm water, tongues sweeping, tasting, savoring.

He was lightheaded with it, bracing one of his hands on the stone wall behind you, afraid he'd dissolve entirely and wash down the drain. Away from you.

Merlin, how could he ever be away from you?

Then, it dawned on his that this may be the only chance he'll have to do this with you-- spend a quiet night somewhere safe, where he could love you however he wanted without fear of being caught. He could shower with you, sleep in the same bed with you. Such simple mundanities that felt more precious than gold with you.

This thing with you was fleeting—a strike of lightning. A shooting star. And soon, it would have to end. He couldn't bring you home, couldn't get a flat with you—

The thought stole his breath, a pained sound escaping from his throat, and you broke the kiss, pulling back to look at him.

“George?” You caressed his cheek, pushing his soaked hair from his forehead. The sweetest thing. “Love, are you alright?”

He nodded, turning his head into your palm and brushing the delicate skin of your inner wrist, the heel of your palm, with his lips. He didn't trust himself to speak.

“Let's just focus on being here, yeah?” You murmured, able to discern where his mind had taken him. “Just us, just tonight.”

After a second, equally as intense round, he dried you both off and carried you to bed, your wobbly legs that of a newborn fawn. The bookshelves beside the bed caught his eye, and he wandered over after tucking you in and lighting some candles.

He slid something off the shelf, garnet leather, tattered at the corners, with silver embossing on the cover and spine: Romeo and Juliet.

Normally, he wouldn't reach for Shakespeare, but you made him want to weave sonnets, monologue verbosely on balconies edge—

“How's this?” He asked, turning to show you, and your kiss-bitten lips curled into a sleepy smile.

“Perfect,” you hummed.

He climbed back into the downy bed beside you, your naked body curling against his side, natural as the moonlight caresses the wall. The steady thrum of your heartbeat synchronized with his as you got comfortable, nuzzling into his shoulder.

The book opened with an antiquated crack, pages thin and yellowed with time. He leafed through it until he reached the Prologue, and started to read aloud.

“Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean,

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes,

A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life…”

Reader’s POV

When you and George return to the castle the following morning, you part as if complete strangers. Without a backwards glance, without the preamble of a goodbye. George turned towards the Great Hall, you, towards the library. But the loss was an anchor on your heart, raw and sulfuric as freshly carved grief.

Going back to acting like strangers, propping up the charade after the bliss of tearing it down, felt impossible. Insurmountable. Agonizing.

You'd never been more sure that George Weasley was yours and you were his. And what a cruel trick of fate that you could never be together, not without sacrificing everything else.

And even if you were willing to, you knew George wasn't. He would never give up his family, would never disappoint them in that way. And you could never ask him too, not matter how badly you wanted him.

But you couldn't let him go either, too selfish, too desperate, too possessive. A dog with a bone. How could you go back to that world of callousness, of treachery and darkness after being bathed in his light?

You mad either nearly halfway to the library when a commotion rang out, students running down the hall back towards the courtyard at the center of the castle. Like the rush of a river, you were quickly caught up it in, bobbing along until you were spit out at the back of a massive crowd of students and faculty.

Draco's platinum hair caught your attention towards the front, and you forced your way towards him.

“What's going on?” You hissed, tugging at his robes.

He turned, a cruel retort on his tongue until he realized it was you. “Trelawney’s getting canned,” he snickered, ushering you in front of him, his body shielding your from the push of the crowd.

That explained the wailing.

“Why on earth would Dumbledore do that—” but then you noticed the pink-clad Umbridge standing beside the bawling Divination professor and all of her belongings. You had always disliked the puggish woman, with her upturned nose and pressed lips, expensive tweed dyed that horrible, intestinal pink.

In her hand, she held a dismissal order on the Ministry letterhead.

Something was deeply wrong.

You spotted George across the way, standing with his siblings, Harry and Hermione. He edged in front of Ginny, pulling her just slightly behind him as he watched Umbridge chastise poor Trelawney with narrowed eyes. He had Harry by the shoulder, preventing the impulsive boy from running out the professors defense.

He looked…afraid. Fred did too.

George's eyes met yours, softening a bit before they flicked up to Draco, and immediately turned glacial. Hostile. You glanced up and found Draco smiling, and your stomach turned.

McGonagall rushed out, gathering Trelawney in her arms and shushing her.

“Is there something you'd like to say, dear?” Umbridge asked.

“Oh, there are several things I'd like to say,” McGonagall bit.

Draco snickered, and you elbowed him.

Then, the doors burst open behind you, revealing Albus Dumbledore. He strode forward, anger practically radiating off of him.

“Professor McGonagall, might I ask you to escort Sybil back inside?”

The way Umbridge was looking at him, all arrogance and snobbery. Like she knew something he didn't…

Understanding settled heavy on your bones. This was no ordinary sacking—this was an act of war. The war George tried to explain. The war that your family tried to hide from you. The war that the Ministry was in denial of, that you were in denial of.

George had tried to warn you, but it was too late.

The war had officially come to Hogwarts, and you were standing on the wrong side of it.

Thank you for reading!

If you'd like to be included in the taglist, comment below!

taglist: @pxige1234, @simars3, @jaybbygrl, @irlpokemonsworld, @just-some-random-blogger, @marrykisskilled, @tgnvhp, @rainydayathogwarts , @angelicbabydolll, @collectivefae, @weasleylovers, @arizonadesert, @i-love-gvf, @falsedivide, @catiwinky , @logana123, @mara-018, @bunbunbl0gs, @queermushy, @tetra-stark, @honeybees-18, @watchmerora, @writeoffside, @lwtnsalute, @ss--y, @idreamofgettingout , @laurelthesimp , @little-slyvixen, @f1wh0recom, @4ngeltrumpettt , @katrina0-0, @froggiedragon , @maplestardust, @lousypotatoes , @vic0ofspace , @yearninglustfully, @rhea-sylvea, @sstar-ggirl , @thestylestour

#geroge weasley fic #George Weasley smut #tumblr glitch wont catch me slipping today no maam 🥱🫡

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eitelle · 4 years ago

Text

pretty setter squad headcanons:

Includes: oikawa, kenma, and kageyama

TW: idk too much cuteness? Is that even a trigger? Idk. Some spicy headcanons not all tho idk maybe angst I’m not sure

Note: I don’t like oikawa but I have headcanons ab him (pls don’t get offended oikawa stans, yall scare me.)

Pairings: kinda not rly but oikawa x gn!reader, kenma x gn!reader and kageyama x gn!reader

A/N: BRUH MY FRIEND FOUND MY TUMBLR RIP 💔😔 but it’s chill. Anyways I still don’t know how to use this app and I’m yet again doing this in school but we just vibing at this point. If u live in the DC area or anywhere where things are getting violent please stay safe and don’t go outside unless absolutely necessary :(

Oikawa tooru

Def bi. He’s a bicon but also a biromantic (someone who is attracted to males and females but only after ie. shared trauma or an emotional bond)

His fav food is milk bread but he makes Iwa-chan make it for him bc the time he tried to make it he almost burned down his house

Hes the little spoon

He’s a Leo rising or at least a lot of Leo/Virgo placements in his big 6

Mans is so touch deprived and gets clingy is u leave for even 2 mins

He will never forget ur bday bc he does have a rly good memory

I feel like his family life is/was rly bad so that’s why he’s rly clingy now

If he had TikTok he’d blow up like how vinnie hacker did but then people would notice how he’s built and then he’d lose hype

Even tho he’s sensitive I feel like he’d be a rly good debater (idk why)

Def writes u love letters and keeps them in his vb locker

Steals ur scrunchies and brags to his team ab it

He would put marshmallows or smth sweet in his popcorn as opposed to butter or cheese

Before giving you any of his hoodies he always sprays it excessively w his cologne so people will know who u belong to

Hes such a switch

Possesive in public but like a huge baby in private

If u take a bath or shower u best believe that man will come running to take it w u bc he has separation anxiety

Is really good at science

Secretly finds his fans annoying but only lets it show if they ever hurt you

Hes vanilla IM SORRY

Very insecure so u have to remind him of how amazing all of his flaws are and that you love him all the time

Love language is touch fs but he needs words of affirmation to be reassured all the time

He’s a bookworm secretly 😳😳 (sincerely a bookworm)

Ok that’s all I have for oikawa

Kenma (🍎🎮🐈💕)

Buckle up everyone. Some may be spicy so be warned

His ideal date is to cuddle, eat apple pie on a huge empty (as in no people) field of flowers, play animal crossing and eventually watch the sunset and then a car ride home where y’all scream songs

He has stamina but only if he wants (like 5-9 rounds 😀☝️😳✊)

If he loses a round or smth in a game ur ability to walk: gone.

Touch: deprived

Hes rly clingy in private but as soon as y’all are in public the most he’ll so is touch ur back, hold ur hand, or kiss ur cheek

The quiet ones do be the most kinky tho

His love language is touch and loves giving you gifts but hates getting gifts (unless it’s smth that is special)

He loves when u play games w him or bake him apple pie

He’s a rly good baker but will never tell anyone else

He loves when u cuddle him while gaming

Once u give him ur scrunchie, that’s HIS scrunchie now. He’ll wear that shit everywhere. in his hair, on his wrist, doesn’t matter.

Separation anxiety (idk i feel like that’s all setters tho 💀💀)

He def named his Minecraft dog after you

Surprisingly hes the big spoon (only bc he loves holding you) but he’s down for being little spoon sometimes too

Night cuddles or no sleep

Def done the pocky thing where u eat from either end and then kiss in the middle

Sometimes he’ll be so ‘interested in a game’ that he lets u braid his hair. (hes rly not interested he just thinks ur cute)

You>games (shockerrrr)

Yall have like 5 cats and u name them after ur shared animal crossing villagers

He/they vibes but is lowkey scared to tell you but ofc ur the loving and supportive s/o so ur like “aw no bby it’s totally fine”

Def calls you kitten or bub

Rly good at singing and would sing you to sleep or sing while y’all play games

Him and you would def have Minecraft beds next to each other

Loves when u get jealous ngl

He sometimes forgets to do simple things like eating or drinking water or sleeping 💀💀 so you have to remind him

Y’all share a plate of food bc it started off as you two sharing so you could make sure he was eating but now it feels wrong to not share (yall get seconds and it’s a big plate but either way u still share)

You have to teach him how to dance lmaoo

He actually loves it when u call him ‘Ken’ or ‘kenken’ just not in public or in front of kuroo

Ok that’s it for kenken it felt rly long 💀💀

Kageyama (aka swageyama tobiyolo)

He hates the silence so he has to him or murmur to himself

Def needs words of affirmation and his love language is touch but he hates receiving touch

Ripped. Like lean ripped. Very hot 😛😛

Cuddles. That’s all I have to say.

Touch deprived. Idk I feel like everyone is touch deprived in the series 😭😭

He either goes to sleep rly early or late there’s no in between

He remembers rly odd things. Like he won’t remember what he had for breakfast/lunch/dinner but he remembers nishinoyas hair dying schedule and your fav shampoo and conditioner

Cant sleep wo cuddles or hugs

He has a little sister and knows how to braid hair like a boss 😎😎

He pouts when he’s sad and hates being vulnerable

He’s a weeb

Def has a baby voice that he saves for when ur together in private

He needs reassurance and has so much doubts and insecurities 😔😟😖

He’s very possesive 😏😏

Never forgets an important day or a goodnight/morning text no matter how bad his day is

He finally learned how to smile once he got w u bc u make him smile and to smile he just thinks ab you

At night he drinks warm milk with like Nutella mixed in w syrup (don’t judge ok 💔) but regular milk during the day

He secretly stalks hinata bc he feels protective over the ball of sunshine (not romantically)

He never gets mad at you and if he does he just doesn’t talk and apologizes and talks it out later

Def believes in Santa still

Has daddy issues 😳😳

Huge sweet tooth and also lowkey has soft hair that he lets u play with

He gets mad if u ever wear someone else’s hoodie or clothes doesn’t matter who’s or what gender

He wears rings like corpses

His way of showing affection is rambling ab volleyball w a smile (like a genuine one)

Ideal date is a study date that ends up in cuddles while watching stars

He always gets you smth from the snack machine

He loves walking to school with you even if he’s a little late he would never miss walking with you

He’s rly awkward and yalls first kiss was in front of the whole volleyball team after winning a rly important match (I’m not saying which one just use ur imagination lmao) and noya and tanaka pounced on him and sobbed ab how Kags got a s/o before them

Definitely bilingual or like can speak multiple languages (not well but he understands them)

He loves when you play w his hair or his head in general and he loves giving head pats 🥺

Ok that’s it for kags bub

Alr I hope u enjoyed lmaoo pt 2 w akaashi, suga, and atsumu will be up tmr maybe idk yet

#haikyu oneshots #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyu headcanons #kageyama #haikyuu tobio #oikawa x y/n #hq oikawa #oikawa tooru #kenma fanfic #kenma kuzome #kenma x you #kenma x yn #kodzuken #kozume kenma #swageyama tobiyolo #kageyama tobio #eitelle writes

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tastyykpop · 4 years ago

Note

Can you make a smut + angst jealousy fic for Ten or Jeno please~ thankiee

I hope this was okay. I made it a best friend au if u don't mind🙈

ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ᴅɪsᴀsᴛᴇʀs

Pairings: bestfriend!ten x reader

Genre: smut, angst

Warnings: jealousy, slight d/s themes, slight choking, marking, possessiveness, unprotected sex, creampie, rough ish sex

"What are you doing here?" Ten asks walking into the living room where you sat watching tv. "Thought you had a date with that guy?"

"I did, but he called it off again." You mumbled.

"Again? Isn't this like the hundreth time? What a joke." He plops down on the couch next to you.

You side eye him, ready to question the attitude but chose to close your mouth instead.

Shrugging with a sigh, you bite your lip, "Its nothing. Hes probably busy." You knew that wasn't the case. The two of you were all over the place, it was either you guys flirted and went on dates like couples or he ditched you to do something with his friends and side chicks.

You were basically his fling that somehow dragged on for months. And ten couldnt stand it. Seeing you get beaten down and crushed like an egg made his heart sink. But to be honest, it wasn't like he minded the extra attention. Once you and that guy started talking, you were dragged out of his life and hardly talked to him unless it were times like this or when you bragged about the dude, and if he was lucky, a sleepover that came once in a blue moon. Ten probably shouldn't have felt this way, but he couldn't help his jealousy. He wanted what the guy had. He wanted you.

"Give the bastard up already." Ten says, "All he does is break your heart like its his favorite hobby. Then he has the fucking audacity to get back with you like nothing happened. Open your eyes, y/n, he's not good for you."

You grimaced, looking up at his uncharacteristically fuming face, "You don't know him like I do. He's good to me."

"Oh cut the shit. Stop being so naive."

Glowering at the man, you shake your head, "Im not naive and its not my fault you don't like him."

Ten sighed, "Jeez you can be a bitch sometimes."

"Excuse me!?" Your brows furrow, "Ten, stop acting like a dick. Why can't you support me and my decisions? You always find something to complain about with your overprotective ass."

"He treats you like shit, thats literally all he does and I have to sit here and deal with it." Ten growls.

"Then leave i don't fucking care."

Ten snorts, "Youre kidding. You're gonna push me out of your life just because I'm calling someone out. Well I got a newsflash for you babe, thats not how life works."

"As if youre any better." You mumble, thinking ten couldnt hear you. But you were very wrong.

"I dont have to do a thing to be better than that motherfucker." Ten glares before leaning closer to your face, "I could treat you better than he ever did. Like a fucking goddess, but no, you chose him."

"Youre so fucking annoying, ten." Your eyes met your best friends. This was probably the biggest mistake you've made. So many years you never bothered to say anything about your small crush on ten, afraid it may ruin the friendship between you two. But knowing its mutual, you could practically hear your heart crack. Those wasted months could've been months spent with ten, but they weren't.

Ten stared back into your hurt eyes with no expression except frustration, "Good i can keep going. I could write a whole essay on this loser."

"Ten, shut the fuck up! I'm tired of your fucking voice!"

Immediately ten stops talking. Though hes still frowning like an angered child who didn't get their way.

"God, you can be so frustrating at times." You say.

"Frustrating?? Whats frustrating is you being him and not with me." Ten says, breaking his short silence as his face was still inches away from yours.

Your back is just about touching the arm of the couch, tens breath fanning your face softly making your face heat up ever so slightly.

"Seeing him kiss you, hold you-makes my blood boil more than you think." Finally your body was pinned to the couch, ten just barely hovering over your lips, "Im going to make sure he knows who you belong to after tonight."

You yelped as you best friend clashed his lips into yours, much rougher and desperate than you thought he'd be. His hand snaked up your thigh, grabbing and kneading at the skin before he moved it to your hip, loving the small sighs against his lips.

"Youre so desperate," ten mumbles. He swipes his tongue just over your lips as you find yourself chasing his lips, staring at the string of saliva attached. "I finally get to have my desperate little baby." Your pants were off in a matter of seconds along with your panties. Tens fingers already taking in your soaked cunt as he lifted his two fingers up in front of your face, smirking down at you. "Already dripping too. Can't believe you thought about going out with him when you have me."

"Never knew you could be so jealous." You tore your gaze off his arousal coated fingers. "But I'd wish your shut up about it."

Ten sucks his fingers clean before leaning down to bite your neck, earning a gasp as you tilt your head to the side for him. "Dont push it."

"Can't help it." Sighing at the feeling of his teeth sinking in and the small hickeys he's giving you, you reach up to tangle your fingers through his hair, "Youre mad and jealous just because of some guy."

"Not just some guy, babe. A fucking douche." He lapped over the bruises he created on your neck. The purple and blue color was a work of his own art and he wasn't afraid to show it off to anyone and everyone.

"He was nice."

He arched a brow, "Dont lie."

Soon enough, both of your clothings were discarded. Nothing could turn back whatever was going to happen now, and surely not ten who had his hand wrapped firmly around your neck, squeezing the sides tightly but still enough for you to breathe. And as crazy as it may seem, he loved seeing you gasp and wrap your small hands around his wrists.

You moaned at the sudden fullness at your core, the stretch making your back arched a bit off the couch as you pushed your hips into his. A hand carefully placing itself on your hips, but not bothering to push it down or keep it in place.

Ten wasn't going to waste time, he was already thrusting into you at a reasonable set pace where you both moaned, you being louder than he thought.

"You like it?" Ten chuckles to himself, "Of course you do because I know how to fuck you good." He sent a particularly hard thrust just to hear you scream in pleasure. Your nails clawing at his back causing ten to hiss, throwing his head back.

"Youre the worst." You call out, digging your nails further into his back, sure there will be cuts the next day.

He choked you harder, eyes rolling back from the adrenaline rush, "But you love this cock so much, love how I call you mine and not his. Fuck, I should just fill you up over and over again with my cum." You moan at his words, ignoring that stupid grin on his face, "Want me to fill your pretty pussy up, kitten?" Nodding frantically, you gripped his wrist with both of your hands, feeling your orgasm coming closer with each thrust.

"Feels s-so good." The couch screeched against the wood floor as ten pounded into you with no mercy. Each vein of his cock made your walls tighten around him as you got near. " 'm gonna cum."

As if he couldn't move faster, ten surprised you when your body banged against the armrest, desperate for you to cum around him. "Cum, baby. I wanna feel your cum."

You didn't need to be told twice. Everything came rushing out of you an instant, body shaking as ten continued with stuttering thrusts before he finally released inside you, mixing your cum together as he slowly fucked it back inside you, finally pulling out.

"Stay away from him for God's sake." he placed a chaste kiss to your lips. "Or dont, I wouldn't mind him seeing the mess I made."

#the ending is unedited #im in the middle of liking this and not liking it 😀��#nct #nct smut #nct angst #nct 127 smut #nct 127 #nct u #nct 2020 #nct dream #nct dream smut #wayv #wayv smut #wayv angst #ten smut #ten lee #wayv ten #nct ten smut #nct ten

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year ago

Text

Your honor, murder

“Might I join you?”

🤨 DAFAQ ARE YOU GONNA PRAY FOR? WORLD PEACE?

“It would please me greatly, niece.” His eyes run over your form, lingering a little longer on your middle, clearly taking in your curves and attire.

No cuz why he so...

Mayhaps that’s where he sees the challenge.

DIS MAN SEES A DRESS AS A CHALLENGE ✋✋✋✋✋ CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVES IT FOLKS NOPE BOT EVEN OUR CORRESPONDENTS DO

Though there is no reason for you to feel flustered with the company of your uncle, having grown up around him, your heart still feels as though it beats too fast, pounding against the confines of your ribcage.

The targcest is targcesting

The truth is, you have not prayed for any husband – you have prayed for him to become your husband.

OH-- yeahH THE TARGCEST IS TARGCESTING

He’s so close to you that you feel the warmth emanating from him despite the layers of clothing. “You have been so faithful to the Seven,” he whispers with a rasp, keeping his eyes neatly trained on you. “It is only right that they finally grant you something in return…”

He thinks he's god why am I not surprised

“I do not see why not, niece,” he all but growls. “Do you not want the Seven to witness how I worship you?”

WAIT.

WAIT

IM GONNA NEED EVERYONE TO SHUT THE FUCK UP. NO CUZ THAT WAS HOT. FUCK OFF. NO FUCK YOU THAT WAS HOT. I DONT FUCKING CARE. I DONT FUCKING GIVE A SHIT.

“I'll decide where I take you,” he growls once again. It’s the first time your name slips past his lips today, spoken in such a condescending manner that immediately makes you bow to his will. “And if I wanted to take your maidenhead right in front of your father, then so be it.”

😀

Nothing is sacred

Daemon bows his head forwards to nuzzle his nose along your cheek, his breath hot as he speaks. “You’re such a dutiful woman, always praying for a husband and a life filled with children. Why not pray for me? Would that not be the most honorable of outcomes?”

NO CUZ HES SO PATHETIC. HE SUCH A WHINY PATHETIC MEOW MEOW BITCH BOY. AKSHALLY NO HES NOT A MEOW MEOW RN. HE SO SO PATHETIC FUCKK JUST GIVE HIM GO ME WHAT THE FUCK IM SO MESSED UP IN THE HEAD

“Be quiet,” he cuts you off.

IMMA CUT UR LIPS OFF OH WAIT YOU BARELY GOT LIPS WHITE BOY

MAN IM MAD IF I FUCKING TOLD YOU IF YOU LET ME GO ON YOUD KNOW THAT I WAS ACTUALLY PRAYING FOR YOU BUT NO YOU STUPID FUCKING RAT ALL HOE I HATE YOU

Though your face is contorted in both pleasure and slight discomfort, you keep your eyes open and locked with his, carefully studying his face. “I–I think the Seven would want me to be happy… would they not?” you don’t state it, you ask, silently needing his reassurance and asking for guidance.

My poor baby lover BUT ALSO SHE WILDING FR

“Fuck, I-... you were made for me,” he groans against the side of your face, merely propped up on his forearms to not put too much weight on you.

No cuz i wasn't? But go off I guess ??? 🥱

“I shall spill myself inside of you,” he grunts, “would you like that? Do you want my seed in your belly?”

... maybe

But there’s not really any time for you two to dwell in the bliss, not when Daemon gathers himself so quickly to get back on his feet. He fixes his attire, straightening his tunic and redoing the laces of his breeches before he helps you up.

Insert TikTok sound : I am... Disgusted

HE FUCKING WHATTTTT

WHAT OF DUTY WHAT OF SACRIFICE

EXHAUSTING WASNT IT? *INSERT THE REST OF WHAT RHAENYRA SAID TO ALICENT*

“We will keep this between us,” Daemon interrupts, figuring what’s plaguing your mind.

SIDE CHICK BEHAVIOR FROM MY OWN UNCLE BUT WOW OK FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING DIPSHIT

You nod and swallow thickly. “I-I hope so?”

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 ITTTT BEEE ELIIIIKKKEEEE THHHAATTTT

“A tea, princess. From the king. It will rid you of any unwanted consequences.”

😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀 I want his head on a spike

YOU‘RE THE ONLY THING I PRAY FOR. (1/3)

Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT — MINORS DNI; NON/DUB-CON, canon typical incest/targcest (uncle & niece), blasphemy, taking of virginity, female reader

WORDS: 4.6 K

NOTES: Part 1 is here! At the anon that has requested it: thank you so much for this. I hope it lives up to your expectations.

Daylight has first appeared when you break your fast, completely dressed and ready to start the day by paying a visit to the Grand Sept. It’s one of the rare days the queen does not accompany you for your morning prayer as her queenly duties have called for her even before the first light. But you bask in the rare solitude her absence grants, looking forward to the time you get to spend all by yourself.

A carriage waits for you as you walk down the steps of the Red Keep leading into the courtyard, the door already opened and a servant anticipating for you to get in.

“And where might you be going so quickly?” You know the voice that pierces through the silence of the morning, and are not surprised when you turn around to spot your uncle approaching. He’s clad in a white tunic and black breeches, looking as though he has just gotten out of bed.

Bobbing a small curtsy, the slight bow of your head does little to hide the surge of warmth that spreads to your cheeks, trying to suppress the nervous smile his presence always coaxes from you.

It could be mere happenstance that you two meet right when you’re about to leave the keep, but something deep inside of you tells you he’s more than familiar with your morning routine.

“I was just heading to the sept to pray, uncle,” you reply, your eyes locking with his as he creeps closer.

The smirk that grazes his features at your words sends a shiver down your spine because it doesn’t mean any good; it never means any good. “And what is it that you pray for exactly, sweet niece?” he asks in a playful tone, raising a brow. His head cocks to the side, and he sizes you up briefly. “Does a princess such as you pray for love? Pray for a husband?”

Despite the rush of embarrassment you feel when he makes his comments, you can’t deny the truth in them. “I pray for many things…” you trail off, pressing your lips into a thin line and contemplating if you should elaborate further. But the ultimate act of piety is to be honest, genuine, and you know it’ll surprise him more than a snappish remark. “I pray for the love of my family, as well as my own. Though I must admit that what I pray for most is to be married one day, and provide my husband with a healthy heir.”

He must have noticed the way your eyes trail up and down his tall frame throughout your little lecture, despite you having your neck craned to meet his gaze, because his brow doesn’t seem to lower at all, staying in its exact position as he’s seemingly impressed by your words and your honesty. However, there’s also a pregnant pause following them, and you brace yourself for whatever taunting or derogatory comment might follow.

“Might I join you?”

The question catches you off guard, and causes you to tilt your head sideways.

Pious isn’t a term you would use to describe your uncle. If he believed in anything, he’d merely worship the Gods of Old Valyria and would not follow the Faith of the Seven. Nevertheless, you’re thrilled he even considers accompanying you to the Grand Sept, because you’re certain he’s never seen it from inside.

“I would be honored by you joining me, uncle,” you say, smiling softly. “I would not have to pray alone.”

“It would please me greatly, niece.” His eyes run over your form, lingering a little longer on your middle, clearly taking in your curves and attire. The dress you wear is completely different to the ones your younger sister usually wears, and comes closer to the gowns the queen dons nowadays. It’s modest and covers you completely, basically from head to toe.

Mayhaps that’s where he sees the challenge.

You briefly nod your head, and take his hand as he offers to help you into the carriage, climbing the steps before sitting down on one of the upholstered seats. You make note of how warm and unexpectedly smooth his hand is when you let go of it, having expected it to be calloused and somewhat rough from all the riding on dragon back and training with the sword he does.

Daemon takes his seat next to you, and it’s evident you have all of his attention with him not tearing his eyes off of you once. What you don’t know is that he’s always found a liking in you. You’re sweet and innocent, demure even, and the complete opposite to Rhaenyra.

More oft than not you make your uncle feel as though you really do not deserve an unvirtuous man such as himself, just as your father has told him back when Daemon had asked him to grant him your hand in marriage. You’re a girl that has never taken a man’s touch before, innocent in both mind and body – a vision obviously tantalizing to many men of court.

He looks over you once more. You feel his gaze burning into your skin regardless of how badly you focus on what you see passing on the outside of the wheelhouse, and you can’t deny that you would love nothing more than to learn of what’s occupying his mind.

The ride to the sept isn’t too long, and shared in silence thick with tension. When the carriage comes to a stop and a servant opens the door, you rise from your seat and climb down the steps. Your hands are clasped in front of your body on the way into the Grand Sept, closely followed by the looming presence of your uncle.

And you immediately feel at peace when you walk through the heavy doors held open by several guards, breathing in the scent of incense and relishing in the quiet it brings. Though there is no reason for you to feel flustered with the company of your uncle, having grown up around him, your heart still feels as though it beats too fast, pounding against the confines of your ribcage.

The truth is, you have not prayed for any husband – you have prayed for him to become your husband. And every single one of your prayers resolved around the wish for him to join you some day. The Grand Sept is your home port, giving you a sense of safety and being the place you always return to. And what could be better than sharing this feeling with the person your heart and body long for?

You nod subtly toward the few septas and novices that cross your path on the way to the large stone altar in the center of the sept, attempting to not draw too much attention to you and the prince that trails closely behind.

Rolling one of the thin vestas between your index finger and thumb, you carefully set it alight with a candle that’s already lit before you proceed to light your own. The small piece of wood is extinguished with a soft blow of air, and you brush your fingers over the sheet of wax that covers the gray marble beneath, watching the sea of lights in front of you.

“Have you been in the sept before, uncle?” you ask, innocently. It might seem like a witless question, but is completely fair considering you have never really seen him pray before.

You are not oblivious to just how different you are from your own kin, for neither your father, uncle nor sister frequent the sept, let alone pray before they break their fast or eat their supper.

When they’d ask you, you’d say that the contrast between you and Daemon is the most blatant, closely followed by the differences you and Aemond have. Though your younger half-brother, more oft than not, resolves to praying, you know it’s just to please his devout mother.

If anything, you most resemble Alicent, despite not sharing the same blood with her. She has taken you under her wing as your mother died birthing your late brother, strengthening your very being with her own faith.

Daemon chuckles at your question, following after you to the stone altar. It’s an easy game for him to pretend to be pious, having resorted to colder measures many times before. “I will admit that I do not frequent the sept as much as you. It’s just…,” he trails off, looking around the room and taking in the architecture. “... not exactly to my liking. I much prefer the worship of the Old Gods of Valyria.”

Just like you have thought. It’s tempting to worship and follow the customs your very ancestors have set up and believed in, bringing you closer to what ties you to the family whose love you always pray for. But where were these Gods when you needed them most?

“But doesn’t everyone in King’s Landing worship the Seven? Do you not think them worthy of your devotion?” you ask, cocking a brow as you slowly sink to your knees. You still look up at him, but already fold your hands to prepare for the prayer.

Daemon watches you carefully, no, he blatantly stares at you, taking you in and watching you on your knees from his level of height. It’s exciting, to say the least. “Oh, I do not consider them unworthy, they have been worshipped in Westeros for centuries, but you can not expect me to deny my heritage, niece.”

It’s your heritage as well, and it includes the customs that would allow for you to wed the man you have always longed for. That is, if you were not betrothed already.

The marriage to Jason Lannister, like your father has requested, is the most fitting option, you know. It’s no match made out of love but rather a political arrangement, and doesn’t heed your own wishes.

He’s no more a man that deserves you than your uncle, though the prospect and thoughts of marrying Daemon do excite you more. Perhaps this excitement stems from the suppressed desire of wanting the opposite of your pious nature, something that would make you feel alive as much as riding Silverwing does.

But your uncle isn’t interested in taking you to wife. His late wife died a few moons ago, and if someone has always had his attention and favor, it’s your younger sister, Rhaenyra.

Flashing you a tight-lipped smile, he approaches one of the pews close to the altar and sits down. You focus on the candles in front of you and fix the flames of them to watch them dance, calming you down and bringing you back to the matter at hand; your morning prayer.

But under the intensity of his stare, you find it incredibly difficult to focus on your wishes and steady your thoughts, and you rely on the Seven for their guidance. The direction in which your thoughts stray is improper and silently proscribed by the people of the realm, and you haven’t spent all of these mornings in the sept to let it all go to waste with the foolish wish to follow your House's customs.

Lowering your head, you quietly speak your prayers and plead for the Seven to see you in good favor before them despite the sins that may come upon you in the future.

Your uncle, on the other hand, only now realizes that this is the best time he could wish for to get you alone, all by yourself with no one to interrupt. And as the wait for you to finish your prayers doesn’t stop to pass agonizingly slowly, he’s overtaken by his urges and begins to quietly approach you.

You’re in the midst of your prayer when you feel a sudden presence in your space. Opening your eyes, you spot him sinking down on his knees right next to you, his broad shoulder brushing yours in the process, pressing against your frame.

There are goosebumps prickling on your skin at his words, the sensation even raising the hairs on the back of your neck.

Despite growing up around him, you have never shared such close proximity with him before, at least not since you can remember. It feels so intimate, and the way in which he speaks makes it more than obvious that it’s plain profanity.

Daemon is clearly taking advantage of your piety, and twists your words and beliefs into something much more impure.

But it seems that your body renders what your mind doesn't. It knows what he is up to even before you can grasp it, and you suddenly notice the uncomfortable way your smallclothes cling to the apex of your legs, a cold moisture making the linen sticky.

You can’t speak, far too absorbed in his presence, and barely notice that he’s slowly inching towards you, until the tips of your noses brush against each other.

Daemon is not moving closer, basking you in a sense of feigned superiority that gives you the impression that you’re the one in control. If you’re about to kiss, it’s because you want to do so, at least he’s making you think that. But by the Seven, how badly you want to kiss him.

You’re the one to close the gap between you and press your lips firmly to his. You feel the warmth of them against yours, and are overtaken by a haze. You have never expected this to be the result of your joint visit to the Grand Sept, and you feel as though you're melting with a jolt of heat – until a cloud of panic washes over you.

Pulling back with a gasp, you topple over on your arse, grateful for the space it puts between the two of you. You bring your fingers to your lips, touching them as if you mean to prolong the feeling of his lips on yours.

“I-I do not wish to be a prude, but…” you try to deny his advances. You don’t know where to look, eyes frantically flickering to the ground, the ceiling, and even checking if anyone is around to see what has happened.

Daemon licks his lips with a sigh, and you see him contemplating his next moves, the silence making your heart pound in your ears. “You’re a pious woman,” he raps, or rather just states the obvious.

And then he slowly stalks closer again, only to bury a large hand in the hair at the back of your head, using the grip to bring you closer to him again. “Why have the Gods made me love a pious woman?”

You’re holding onto his shoulders, not sure if you want to draw him impossibly closer or push him away. Your wide eyes carefully study his features, before he leans in and starts to press kisses to the side of your face that leave you whimpering and mewling.

Daemon has his strong arms wrapped around your frame to pull you flush against his chest now, and you’re squirming and panting, trying to get away from him while his hands make quick work of pulling and tearing at the skirts of your dress already.

“Un-Uncle… not here, please,” you try to protest.

He brings a hand to your cheek, turning your face so it’s easier for him to capture your lips in a heated kiss again. It takes all the strength you can muster to pull away from him, not just physically, but mentally. The long suppressed part in you is at an all time high, aching for nothing else than him.

“We-We can’t,” you stammer, completely out of breath. “Not here.”

“I do not see why not, niece,” he all but growls. “Do you not want the Seven to witness how I worship you?”

The words make your face grow hot. The thought of the Seven watching over you is taboo and wrong, but it also makes it a lot more exciting. It has been an idea you have long desired, and to hear it spoken out loud from his own lips makes a thrill of excitement course through your veins.

“B-But I-I have never–” your voice is reduced to a whimper, the despair audible.

Daemon paws at your hips, and brings his face closer to press open mouthed kisses to the side of your neck. “I will worship you in a way they have never experienced, I can promise you that,” his husky voice is muffled by your skin, and all you can do is blush in return.

He backs you against the column of the altar behind you, trapping you so he can use both his hands to snake beneath your gown and tear at the linen undergarments you wear, reducing the barrier that stands between him and his most prized possession.

“Uncle, Daemon, please… the sept is not the right place for this.”

You push at his chest, but at the same time melt against his sturdy frame when his lips claim yours. The fabric of his tunic is pinched so tightly between your fingers that your knuckles start to blanch from the force, acting as the means to an end to distract you from the shame you feel at giving into him so easily.

You can’t think for yourself, swept up by his words, his charms and his possessiveness. He’s brought you to the edge, and you can’t find yourself able to resist.

“Uncle, I–”

“Be quiet,” he cuts you off.

So lost in his overwhelming presence, you hardly register him undoing the laces in the front of his breeches, only just lowering them enough for him to free his hard cock. Once that’s done, he lays you onto the cold floor, and positions himself between your legs, which brings you close enough to his cock to feel it prodding against your cunt.

You can’t breathe, not when you’re basically smothered by his weight, pinning you down to the ground and not allowing you to move. There’s no chance for you to meet his gaze, for he’s far too distracted to keep his eyes locked on one position only.

“You’re a dragon, sweet niece,” he grunts. “That cunt of a Lannister would not know how to handle it… let me take care of you.”

You release a shuddered breath when the tip of his cock meets the resistance of your tightness, forcing your body to go rigid. But despite that, Daemon is able to ease himself inside of you. It takes him a few seconds to fill you to the brim, taking his sweet time to allow you to adjust to each other.

And you sure do.

He pushes inside at an agonizingly slow pace, allowing you to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. When his hips are still, your tight walls slowly accommodate his impressive size. But even then Daemon already knows he can’t keep this up for long, for your cunt is squeezing him so tightly, he is sure he’ll spend himself too quickly for his own liking.

It takes you a moment, but as you feel him twitching, briefly brushing the sensitive spot inside of you, your stiff muscles seem to thaw. You arch your back against him, melting into the warmth that radiates off him.

A quiet whine leaves your lips that prompts him to meet your gaze. “That’s it,” Daemon coos softly, a slight strain in his husky voice. He brings a hand behind your head to support it and make it a bit more comfortable for you, lifting it off the hard ground.

Bowing his head forwards, he captures your lips in a gentle kiss. It is languid, tender even, but doesn’t lack any passion. There’s a burning inside of you, and you feel completely filled to the brim, yet it’s not as uncomfortable as the first few seconds have been.

Perhaps it’s the possibility of being caught by your own kin or other nobles, or being defiled by him so openly, but you can’t seem to get enough. No, you don’t even mind if anyone sees you, not when all you’ve prayed for finally comes true.

“I thought you were a pious maiden,” he rasps, immediately giving in to the pleasure and his urges, “not one that enjoys sin as much as this.”

As he notices the hidden meaning behind your words, he flashes you a sly grin, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Oh, I believe as much.”

Daemon starts to thrust into you, coaxing one whiny moan after the other from your parted lips. The pace is slow, and you can tell by the way he has his jaw set that it takes a whole lot of restraint for him to keep it that way. You know he’s an experienced man, having heard lots of stories about him and his conquests, and you appreciate him practicing patience with you.

“Fuck, I-... you were made for me,” he groans against the side of your face, merely propped up on his forearms to not put too much weight on you. The feeling of his breath fanning over your skin, and the sounds he makes vibrating against it, ignite a fire in your veins you haven’t felt before.

“You were always meant to be mine, but your father is too dull to see it.” Light kisses trail over your jaw and the side of your neck, meaning he can’t see the color his words bring to your cheeks.

Entangling your fingers in his short, silver strands, you just rest your hand there to keep yourself grounded, until one particular thrust that seems a bit rougher than the others has you eventually tugging on the tresses not-so-gently. The action pulls his head back and exposes his throat to you, and it’s far too enticing to not to lean in and press your lips to the bump in the front of it. Daemon groans at that, and, in response to his cock twitching and throbbing inside of you, your walls clench around him.

You haven’t been touched by a man before, even rarely by yourself, and thus you’re not quite familiar with the pressure that builds inside of your body. It has the grip of your legs around his waist tightening and your toes curling, but other than that you’re not quite sure what to expect.

“Good girl, taking me so well,” he grunts, spurred on by the way your walls squeeze and choke his cock, clearly knowing you’re close to your peak. His praise goes straight to your head, and you whimper in return, stammering a ‘th-thank you, uncle.’

“Wet my cock, little niece, make a mess for me,” he all but commands, a dominant edge to his voice that has you shivering.

Far too lost in the pleasure his body grants you, you hardly notice him driving his hips into yours with more fervor and determination, an approving ‘mhhh’ and stutters of his name escaping your lips.

It probably is a vague guess, but Daemon’s mouth claims yours with newfound hunger as your peak washes over you in an ambush, effectively drinking down every wanton moan and whimper that has threatened to leave them.

Something akin to fire spreads through your veins which prompts your leg to tremble uncontrollably, locking around his waist. Your walls flutter and convulse all over him, and white, hot pleasure clouds your vision.

Only when the tremors slowly subside does your uncle tilt his head back. He watches you in awe, studying the drowsy expression on your face though the pistoning of his hips hasn’t stopped. And he won’t stop, not even when you’re no more than a quivering and whimpering mess beneath him, and you’re very close to turning into one.

He cups your chin, pinning your head to the ground as he increases the pace of his thrusts again, using your relaxed state to chase his own peak.

It feels overwhelming, a different kind of aching suddenly burning between your legs, and you try to squirm away, but his grip on you is as adamant as he’s relentless.

“I shall spill myself inside of you,” he grunts, “would you like that? Do you want my seed in your belly?”

All you can whimper are incoherent words, but are still aware enough to not be too loud. Daemon takes the benefit of the doubt and settles on a whiny yes, far too enticed by the thought of you going round with his child.

He can’t hold himself back any longer with the repercussions of your peak driving him to his own, practically bursting as he spills his seed. His hips falter as he topples over the edge, his twitching member spending itself deep inside of your quivering walls.

You perturbedly look around, breathing heavily, and smooth out the skirts of your dress. Being unsteady on your feet, you shift your weight from one leg to the other and grimace at the wetness that spreads between your thighs at the lack of smallclothes to gather it. His seed seeps from your swollen cunt down your flushed skin and makes you overly aware of the claim he has asserted over you.

You’re too stunned to speak, your mouth opening and closing without any words leaving your lips. Knowing he was a rogue, you would have never thought of your uncle doing such things, even less of yourself.

“I-I–”

“We will keep this between us,” Daemon interrupts, figuring what’s plaguing your mind.

The act of sin between you two has been so improper, and you’re certain your father would force you to become a Silent Sister if the word of your act would spread around court. So, it’s slightly calming to know you can rely on your uncle to protect your reputation and care for your safety.

You nod and swallow thickly. “I-I hope so?”

The silence between you in the carriage on your way back to the Red Keep is thick with tension, and though Daemon helps you climb down the steps before he leaves to attend his princely duties, something does not sit right with you.

And only when you hear a knock on your chamber’s door around the Hour of the Owl do you figure that the feeling was right. Maester Mellos stands opposite of you, a goblet whose content is unknown in his hand. He hands it over, and you feel your blood run cold at his words.

“A tea, princess. From the king. It will rid you of any unwanted consequences.”

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#daemon go to jail party #daemon fanfic #daemon smut

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